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THE LIFE and DEATH OF Old Father IANUS, The vile AUTHOR of the late Wicked COURANT. A SATYR.
FAREWELL, old JANUS, since at last thy Doom,
Which some have fear'd, but more desir'd, is come;
[Page 2]Who in thy Life wast deem'd a Publick Pest,
And whom bright Fame shall restlesly molest:
The Smart you've giv'n to Vice, each Wound declares,
And now thy mangled Name shall pay th' Arrears.
Thou impudently didst, with open Mouth,
In Presence of great Error, plead for Truth;
With trait'rous Rage, for injur'd Justice fight,
Rather than roundly swear that Wrong was Right.
What tho' your Voice for Liberty was rear'd,
With your own Rules your Practice interfer'd;
For, when some only wanted leave to sin,
Thou, like a cruel Tyrant, rein'd them in.
Oft you presum'd to check the lawless Rake;
And from the Proud their flaunting Folly's take:
And yet, O Shame! thy self too proud to bend,
By sordid Arts, to buy a faithless Friend.
[Page 3]Stiff in the Right, a thriftless Fool remain'd,
While prudent Flatt'rers veer'd with every prosperous Wind.
How often hast thou treacherously reveal'd
Those shuffling Tricks, which long had slept conceal'd?
Not a clean Piece of mystick Knav'ry done,
But thou must sound it round the wond'ring Town;
Till thro' your Zeal, is barb'rously betray'd
The gainful Secrets of the cheating Trade.
Baseness unparrellel! to bring to Sight,
Things which you knew deserv'd to see the Light!
What harm had sly Hypocrisy design'd,
That in your Scrolls the Fair shou'd be arraign'd?
That you should cry her down in every Street,
And make the World believe she was a Cheat?
When all can say, that view her artful Dress,
She only differs from th' Upright, in Grace.
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Still to provoke, your Magick rais'd a Glass,
Which made each Villain hate his own dear Face:
And while in Sight your pois'nous Arrows flew,
In base Disguise you skulk'd from publick View;
That when the Guilty, whom your Rancour strook,
Roar'd for Revenge, they knew not where to look.
So when inspir'd by Night, some rambling Fool,
On Mischief bent, resolves to fight by Rule;
With a dark Lanthorn's overpow'ring Blaze,
On our confounded Sight he rudely plays:
Out flies a Cudgel from behind the Light▪
We struggling feel the Blows, but know not whom we fight.
Long you disturb'd the jovial Sinners Sports,
And, with bold Front, besieg'd th' Imperial Forts.
[Page 5]Witness, great BACCHUS, how he charg'd your Troops,
And dar'd t' atttack your Vot'rys at their Cups;
In horrid League with great APOLLO join'd,
To break your Empire, and improve the Mind.
Then rush'd presumptuous on our Ladys Hoops,
And sunk their Int'rest low with amorous Fops:
While some were with his sawcy Satyr stung,
That only lash'd the Vertuous with their Tongue.
When persecuted Wit forsook the Press,
He dar'd the beauteous Suff'rer to caress;
And with Politeness oft in Custom's Spite,
Was known, vile Wretch, to walk in open Light.
But, what inflames his Guilt, he wrote good Sense,
Yet never at the College did Commence;
And like a Felon, stole a loftier Fame,
Than some that in the List can show their Name.
[Page 6]Nor did those Wreaths which round his Temples bloom,
In th' honest Way of learned Dullness come.
Those baffled Bards, who once triumphant reign'd,
Were by his Wit in barb'rous Silence chain'd.
He tore the Lawrel from great HERWICK'S Brows,
And wou'd refined Poetry impose;
But, Ah! no Thanks to him, our Climate better knows.
All that had felt th' Impressions of his Teeth,
Were forc'd to pray with Veh'mence for his Death;
Convinc'd, that till the scribling Foe was dead,
There's not a Vice would love to rear its Head.
Kind Av'rice grip'd, in Hopes his Fate to bring,
And famish'd Envy lent her blunted Sting.
But, midst their sweet Repast, Old JANUS teems
With unsuspected Spite, and guileful Schemes;
[Page 7]Till all was ripe, then stretch'd beyond their Reach,
And left them nibling round his DYING SPEECH.
Thus, vext with Fleas, the Fox to save his Blood,
Contrives Deliv'rance from some neighb'ring Flood:
Softly he sails from Shore, then gently dives,
And on a Woolly Ark, the rav'nous Vermin leaves.
Therefore adieu! No more shall impious Strolls
Be pain'd to practice o'er thy vertuous Rules.
Now may th' imperious Wife the Breeches claim,
And Husbands sna [...]le without deserved Blame:
With Nonsence Fraught, shall Jinglers swarm the Town,
Like Rats and Mice, when once the Light's withdrawn:
The Golden Days of Ignorance return,
And Wit, like JANUS, meet with gen'rous Scorn.
BOSTON: Printed and sold by I. Franklin in Union-Street. MDCCXXVI.